


To The Bullet With My Name

by WhiteFoxKitsune (ProwlingThunder)



Series: In The Black [36]
Category: Invasion America, Star Wars
Genre: Gen, Imperial Messengers, Negotiations, Post-Battle Recovery, Space Pirates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-08
Updated: 2014-10-08
Packaged: 2018-02-20 10:20:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2425148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProwlingThunder/pseuds/WhiteFoxKitsune
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt!Fill.</p><p>Jim is David's 2IC-- so when David's out for the count, everything falls on his shoulders.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To The Bullet With My Name

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RainbowGal](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=RainbowGal).



> Prompt: Second Wind/Fight, David

The hallway was a cave tunnel, honeycombed into the mountain; some of them were big enough Jim could have driven a truck through them, and some others he could barely squeeze through. But this one was about the size of a regular hallway, no more then four feet across and maybe eight feet high. Occasionally the tunnel branched out, breaking at eighty, forty-five degree angles, some other halls and others broadening into more open caverns. Native Manticorans had told them about the temple that footed one of the entrances down here, had told them about the tunnel therein, because some of these people were serious rebels and wanted to throw the yoke off, but no one had known where any of it had come from.

Jim would bet his mother's house back in Glenport that this place wasn't a natural occurrence. Some of the walls might have been caused naturally, and maybe the floor and the ceiling, but Jim felt less like a trespasser into something natural then a ghost in a time long lost when he traveled these catacombs. Though he doubted he'd ever have proof of that.

He tucked his hand in his pocket as he turned down another not-quite corner, and missed. Jim glanced down at himself, at his flightsuit, mostly on habit. Right. No pockets. The steel-gray material wasn't uncomfortably tight, but it fit him well, not loose, just.. right. He could remember when he had gotten it, and the way he had originally been passed over when the 'procured supplies' were being passed out. The way David had shoved through the throng and lectured Tzang over it, sharply telling them all in a no-nonsense voice that just because Jim was human didn't excuse them to be racist, that he was one of them, that they had better treat him like one of them, or they were going to answer to him about it.

And then David had handed it to him, neatly folded, and made it clear that Jim was to report anything like this to him directly. Ambassador of Earth, David had called him, as human as anyone could be, perhaps more so then anyone in the Ooshati at this point. Because he hadn't grown up knowing the truth, like everyone else had. And because he and David trusted each other, and because he was 'diplomat' material.

Jim didn't feel particularly diplomatic as he stalked along the caves though, heading for what had been dubbed the 'medical hall'. On account of David's trust in him, Jim had a pretty high rank among the Ooshati; enough of one, apparently, that when their would-be saviors came down planet-side, the Ooshati had given them to Jim to deal with.

Jim wasn't a diplomat. He wasn't. A year ago he hadn't known aliens existed. But he had nevertheless been elected to deal with them, human envoy that he was, because he was David's second and David was... busy.

If he thought incapacitated or injured, Jim thought he might scream. Partly because the reason David had gotten hurt was Jim's fault. Not all of it, of course-- David would have gotten hurt either way, he knew that intellectually, because there were too many of their own in harm's way for David not to go out there. But David had taken a shot for him-- for him! --and Jim wasn't sure how he felt about that except guilty.

He had fought for permission to go out and fight with the Ooshati, they'd needed every man they could get and Jim had studied war formations for history class in school. He had been trained how to fight as much as anyone else there, too, maybe a little more. And the Ooshati thought he was mostly dead-weight, clinging to David's crown without any talents of his own. He had wanted to prove them wrong. David had relented eventually, assigned him a place in the thick of the back, close enough that a dead run to the temple would have him to safety. And asked him to stay safe.

But somehow in the middle of engaging the Dragit's war-party in the woods, Jim had looked up and found himself in the front of it all. Fighting on the front lines, fighting like everyone else. But he was only human, and fighting Tyrusian soldiers didn't mean a lick when he was so far under the par that they could break him in half with one flick. So he hadn't gotten close enough to be caught physically, ducking behind rocks and trees and keeping of their range.

The first bullet had buried itself in his left shoulder. It still hurt to move it, even now. They had pulled the bullet, later, found the splintered fragments of an Earth-style hollow point; but Jim was human, he didn't heal as fast as a Tyrusian, and with David down someone had to be up, so Manticoran herb-healers had slathered it in a topical painkiller to stifle the pain and rigged up a makeshift sling from his descriptions. They had to have someone up and moving.

But the other bullet had been most likely aimed to kill, not wound, and David had shoved him out of the way, coming from absolutely nowhere, and then there had been more bullets. About a dozen people had been working on him. After the battle, he had insisted everyone else get looked at first, much to Jim's own horror, and then finally passed out.

By that point? The strange ship in the sky had done a good job of eviscerating their enemies. So when the battle was over it had landed, offloaded a few people, and left; and a couple of Maticorans had escorted him off to greet the strangers because no one could convince any of the Tyrusians around to budge while their Prince was being tended and the other hybrids were playing doctor, their attentions needed right where they were.

And all things considered, the meeting had gone well.

Jim hadn't gotten shot again, or broken in half, and none of his guards-- Manticorans who thought he was more alien then the Tyrusians, but liked him better then they did anybody else in the camp and that had in no way hurt his floundering confidence in himself but had helped so much that David had given him his own little group to train with-- had flung barbs at their guests despite their hair-trigger.

But Jim hadn't been able to stop staring at them. He had been able to guess most of their races from careful descriptions from David, because he had a 'recognize aliens on site' class during lulls that coincided with the 'recognize political BS' class. Because different races of aliens defined things differently. Like the matter of territory and personal space. And Jim had already seen the difference between humans, Tyrusians, and the Manticorans, right here in their own little home base. 

Jim preferred people to stay at least arm's reach from him, for the most part. Personal space bubble, he had supplemented when David had floundered for words. And for the most part the only part of his current 'home' he got edgy when people entered was the part he had sectioned off to sleep in. But Tyrusians didn't have personal space, and they didn't have parts of their homes that they didn't like people in, mostly because of that, so they frequently invaded his aforementioned bubble and poked around his quarters, devil-may-care.

And Manticorans? They didn't like to be approached at all, liked to do the approaching, but once some posturing and threatening was done they didn't seem much different then humans. The more familiar someone was, the closer they could come. But territory was different; if you tried to go into their quarters uninvited, they would attack you. Jim knew that it was the biggest concession the rebels had ever made; hunting-wise, they carved out large territories in the woods, some sometimes several hundred acres, and by mutual respect didn't cross into one that wasn't their own. If their kill stumbled into another territory, they could follow it, but part of the kill was given up to the owner of the territory, in apology for the trespass. Camping out on the boarder to give it up was expected.

Which was part of what had made the meeting with the... strangers very odd. Because not a one of them had been the same species, he was sure of that much. A pair of Zabraks he thought might be related, a blue Chiss, a couple of Tyrusians who looked half leery, half curious and at least one human who looked surprised to see him there amongst the people with porcupine spikes for hair.

And one young man that for all Jim had been told about by David of other races, he just couldn't pin down as anything. He'd looked familiar in the face, like someone Jim had known before, with mottled red-brown-blond hair and sharp, predatory gold eyes, and a good, strong handshake. Except that everything about him had set Jim's hair on end, in a way that reminded him of the mangler Blue, still back on Earth.

His voice had been familiar too, in that nagging way Jim still couldn't figure out. But he had been polite, communicative and careful, almost trying as hard as Jim was not to find any verbal land-minds. Though the stranger, Valen, had been more surprised then anything to learn Jim was from Earth. In much the same way, Jim figured, that he had been apprehensive to learn that they were all space pirates.

And then Jim had learned that David had woke up, and was asking for him.

All of which had led Jim here, watching from the opening of a 'room' as David argued with Siri about whether or not he could get up and walk. Jim thought it was a good sign that he was talking, that he was awake, but none of it made him feel any less guilty. David looked like death warmed over, and by warmed over Jim meant that someone had butchered him and then conveniently forgot to tell him that he had died.

“I'm telling you, I'm -fine-.” David insisted, almost half-sitting up and half leaned forward, clutching at his stomach. Jim's legs refused to let him step further into the room. It was a recovery room, used for post-surgical patients, and further beyond it just a wee bit was the surgery suite itself, that opened up and connected to another set of catacombs, looping around like one big, interconnected maze. Jim didn't see anyone else in here, though, and he figured that was a good thing. 

“Fine? Oosha, they virtually -barbequed- you and plugged you with six holes. Which is to say nothing for the drug cocktails they've got running through you from those darts. -You are not fine-.” Siri growled, trying to find a spot of David that wasn't wrapped in the locally-woven green bandages so he could bodily push the teenager back onto the bed. Jim had to grin, just a little. Like Siri was going to get away with that. He'd only ever seen two people who could make David do anything, and neither of them were here.

“I will be fine.” David amended, swatting at the elder Tyrusian with his free hand. He wavered a bit, threatened to fall over on his side-- Jim jerked forward, and then his friend caught himself. “Zak, Siri! Stop it. I can walk. I can work. There are other people who need help, and I'm not one of them.”

“What you -need- is a blood transfusion, about three days to recover and ten days under observation!”

Mother-henning doctor. Human or not, Jim figured most healers were the same. The good ones worried. They cared. They wanted you to be okay, to live. Even if just because you living made them look good.

“Siri! I have to work!” ...because David didn't do well, sitting in one spot, worrying, not moving. Jim knew that probably better then anybody. He always had to be doing something. He wouldn't have been David without that. “Casualties, fatalities--”

“There weren't any,” Jim finally stepped into the room, and the pair snapped to look at him so fast, Jim worried about whiplash.

“Jim! You're alive!” Something in David's shoulders eased out, in his face, his eyes. Jim swallowed. He had been bleeding pretty good when David had succumb to the world of oblivion, and even though David had been bleeding a whole lot more then he had, David always expected the worst. He'd probably looked like he'd been gushing gallons. “I asked for you-- they said they'd look--”

And someone, maybe Ailen, had probably said something that hinted he might have died for his gunshot. If Jim figured out who had terrified David like that, he was going to punch them, and take the broken hand gleefully. He stepped closer. “I'm fine now. Basoak needed someone in an authority position to talk to our guests.”

“Guests?” David shifted, half-rolled himself off to bed, much to Siri's protests. The man was saying something about tearing and ripping and infection, but Jim was focusing on David. There were a lot of burns. Jim could see one on his cheek, that stretched down a ways to his neck. Laser burn, just a little too close. Several patches of red stained the bandages on his chest, now that Jim could see them. It looked like a few of the bullets had been all the way threw, solid slugs rather then the hollow point bullets someone had been trying to murder him with, because David had taken them in the back, not the front. Jim hadn't seen clearly, but he knew that David had been facing him. “What happened while I was out?” Those violet eyes of his sharpened, barely bespeaking of the pain Jim could see there. “How -long- was I out?”

“A few hours.” David was asking him because he knew he wouldn't lie, so Jim didn't dare. “About a dozen or so are injured pretty good, mostly Tyrusians and hybrids. No fatalities though. Shortly after Ibaiaren had managed a sling--” He motioned with his good hand to his shoulder, the flightsuit bulging more than it should thanks to the bandages and gauze underneath. The spot of green stood out in the gray. “Basoak came to me. You were still under. I.. I don't know if you saw it, but there was a ship that swooped in and decided to get rid of the Dragit's forces, take-no-prisoners style. He said there were people in the woods outside the temple who claimed to be them, and that they wanted to talk. So I went. I've been there since.”

“Do you know who they are yet?”

Jim grimaced. Well, yes. “They claim to be pirates, under the command of someone named Kree. But there's a guy leading this group named Valen and--”

“Valen?” David cut him off, still using the bed for support as he tried to straighten himself into a full standing position. “Tyrusian?”

Jim shook his head. “I don't think so. He reminds me of Blue.”

David stared at him. “He reminds you of a mangler.” David's voice didn't sound flat to Jim. But it was laced with incredulity and disbelief. Which wasn't really normal, even for David, but Jim thought it might have been shock. Except that by this point shock should be gone, out of David's system, and Siri looked as confused as Jim felt. “A tame mangler?”

“...no. Not really. I got the notion most of the guys he brought with him were there to keep him.. I don't know. Steady? On heel?” Was there a way to say Jim thought the mess of aliens was there to protect -them- from -him-? “It was weird though. He didn't do anything hostile at all. And he kept watching the Manticorans like he thought they might jump him.”

“I see.” David waved Siri away again as the man brought over a wheel-chair. The hospital areas were mostly smooth-surfaced, especially on the floor, and they had brought a couple with them from Earth, just in case. “I don't need that, Siri.”

“You'll fall. You need a chair.”

“No, I don't.”

“A crutch, then.” Siri insisted, and David motioned to Jim. “Oh no, you are not--”

“I have Jim to help me. A crutch will only get in the way.”

“You can't leave the hospital area!”

Watch him, Jim thought, letting David's just-so grin of determination bloom a lopsided, grateful one of his own. It lightened his heart. Obediently he shifted, turning to pull David's free arm over his shoulders. David wasn't yet too tall for Jim to do it, but he figured it wouldn't be too long yet and he probably would be. “Where to, O Great Oosha?”

“To our guests.” David said at once, frowning a bit. He pressed his hand closer to his belly and the red stain on the bandages there, but he started walking forward, and Jim matched his step. “Tell me about them. How many?”

“Nine. Most of them look Empire races, but..”

“But you didn't ask.” David's voice lightened as they made their way out of the room and down the hall. Jim figured they looked like quite a site, with his own arm in a sling and his other holding onto David, and his friend had one of his own curled around his neck. If Ailen saw them now, he figured, the man would freak. “That's good. Race can be a pretty bad landmine if you guess it wrong. I'm sure you did fine though.”

“...yeah?”

David nodded. “Mmhm. If you had of offended them too badly, space pirates would have killed you.” Great. That made Jim feel so much better. “No territories anywhere have sway over pirates. So they don't fear laws or retributions. That you don't have any more holes in you says you either did pretty good, or they want something from us.”

“What could they possibly want from us? We're a bunch of rebels. We barely even have enough to take care of ourselves.” Jim wasn't a fool. He knew most of the Manticorans would probably say 'thank you and goodbye' once they had gotten rid of the Tyrusian military and officials here. The likelihood of many of them staying with them, sticking it out to get rid of the Dragit with them and put David in power, was horribly slim. They just weren't that sort of people. They wanted -their- territory back, and even the Ooshati were invaders to their eyes.

Right now they had the same enemy. But once their planet was out of the Dragit's control, they wouldn't.

It hurt, but that's how things were. David had warned them not everyone would want to help. What they were doing was risky, they could all die, and they had to pick their battles and their allies carefully. Trust was something that could be abused pretty heavily out here. 

“Everyone has a price for something, Jim.” David admitted, but the way he said it told Jim that he didn't know what they could want, either. “But... tell me about this Valen?”

Something about that name had stuck in David's brain, Jim guessed. He didn't know why. But he had left the pirates in the temple, and the closer they got to that, he guessed, the more David was hunting for how to play this. And Valen had been the spokesperson for them, though Jim didn't know how David could have guessed that. “I don't think he's much older then we are,” Jim admitted, glancing ahead of them to watch their step. “He's familiar somehow. Not quiet, but sharp. I think he was testing the waters when he was talking to me, trying not to upset anyone. But he also seemed to know I wasn't in command here, so giving up the reason of the visit was something I couldn't get him to do.”

“Rafe always said pirates play their cards close at hand,” David agreed, and Jim frowned at him.

“Close at hand?”

“The hand holding the arbus.” 

Oh. “...is that... a normal thing? I mean, I didn't see very many weapons...”

“You probably wouldn't have. But pirates like to hide things. I mean... really like to hide things. If you saw two weapons, they probably had twenty.”

Jim did a mental count in his head, trying to tally up how many he remembered seeing, and how many David said that probably meant they had. And felt his heart sink a bit, like, down there to his toes. Wow. That was... He hadn't guessed that. Maybe he had been in more danger then he thought he had been. An arsenal like that probably could have taken out the Manticorans he'd had with him in a heartbeat.

The temple was coming up. He could see the guards he had left, standing there watching them. They didn't salute, Manticorans didn't salute David he wasn't one of theirs but they did nod, both to him and then to David. Respect. They had earned it, the both of them, a while ago. Jim figured they gave it to David for his prowess on the battlefield, in hunting, whatever. Jim thought maybe they had given it to him because he knew when to leave them alone.

Personal space bubbles.

The entrance into the temple from the caves was a bit tight. It was made so only one person could walk through at a time, which meant that, as Jim wasn't inclined to let go of David, they had to turn and walk through sideways. Jim went through first, careful, watching and listening to David's feet as they slipped through the gap. The cavern had it's own light, a sort of orb that could be stuck to the walls after it was harvested from the roots of a local plant and washed. In the darkness, or it's own light, the orbs glowed. In natural light? No such luck. So the slit in the wall was dark to pass through.

Manticoran had three moons that reflected the star's light down in the night time. The light came in through shafts in the roof, lit the whole interior of the temple up in a blue-silver glow like the moon back on Earth did. It was almost familiar. 

The pirates were still where he had left them. Leaning against pillars, or settled down on the old stone benches, or-- well, Valen was sitting on the edge of the water fountain, legs pulled up to his chest, eyes closed, face tilted toward the sky. But he cocked his ear their way when they stepped into the open central room, seemingly uncaring of the fact that there were still guards watching them.

David stopped moving. Jim heard his breath catch, and for a moment he was terrified the other had stopped breathing, that the trip had been too much, that Siri had been right and David wasn't ready. “Rafe...”

Jim blinked. Valen uncurled himself from the fountain, those too-sharp golden eyes nearly glowing. But he looked almost sad, the sort that implied an old sadness he hadn't thought would come up. And in that moment, too, Jim could see it. In the face. The structure of his jaw, the set of his eyes, lips, nose. He did look like Rafe.

But Valen didn't act like he had heard it. Instead, he spread his hands to show he was unarmed, and then invited them closer. “Jim of Earth. Welcome back. And...?”

David straightened himself a bit more, as much as he could, and Jim realized that he still wore the Exotar. Which made a little sense, he guessed; no one would have thought to take it off him as they were busy trying to save his life. Or maybe they couldn't. It had been a long time since he'd seen David without it, now, and David had been the only person he'd see put it on or pull it off him. Maybe the Exotar only responded to David and Amy's touch?

“David,” He answered shortly, and while Valen had shaken Jim's hand, he didn't offer to do it now. “Born of Earth.”

Valen's smile was polite, but just enough of a pull to show teeth, all of them too-sharp. “We have all heard the rumors, David.” Jim felt David stiffen beside him. He tightened his grip on him, just a bit. “Will you stay and talk with us for a while? We've been hoping to meet you for quite a while now.”

“Why?”

Valen shrugged just a bit. Jim envied him for it at once. “We just want to talk. Any enemy of the Dragon's is a friend of mine.” But then he shook his head and motioned to the fountain, clearly encouraging them to sit. The Exotar curled into a fist against the bandages, and David nodded. He was standing a lot more straight now then he had been, and Jim helped him sit down.

...it was magic how David managed to look -regal- in a mess of bandages, the local brown trousers, and a blue-silver colored glove. He didn't even have shoes on.

Jim thought someone had pulled them off to check for an exit wound of some sort, just in case someone had a defunct weapon. Lasers were light and atomic energy, but so was lightning. He turned to find Basoak and waved him over, quietly asking for something safe to munch on and drink be brought up. Tyrusians ate like mad when they were recovering, and they were busy playing good hosts to pirates, and Basoak had already told -him- he needed to down a small rabbit-like creature in a hurry. He hadn't stopped to go find food on his way to see David, though.

David was watching Valen, clearly apprehensive as the man stepped back and planted himself on the floor, legs stretched out. “All right. What do you want to talk about?”

“Well. Not me, precisely. Though I do want to talk. But we've been looking for you, you see. You are a hard man to find.” Valen motioned over to the human, a man maybe in his thirties. He had shed the cloak he had worn over himself earlier, and now Jim could see the crisp uniform underneath. He didn't recognize it, or the insignia, but David clearly did. The man bowed in a form Jim didn't recognize either. “So we should get business out of the way first. Desmond here is from the Empire, and we were promised a pretty penny by the Emperor himself to help Desmond find you.”

At once, the Manticorans in the room shifted, taking several steps closer, but David raised a hand to stop them, his attention only on the stranger. If Jim hadn't been watching him, he would have missed the change in his friend. Gone was the edges of tiredness, the lines of pain. This was official, important, Jim knew that. He knew it because David had -told- him the goal was to try to get to the Empire to ask for aid. They'd had an alliance. “You're a representative?”

Desmond nodded. “I am one of His Majesties guard.”

“...he sent a guard to play diplomat?” Jim couldn't help himself, and he winced. But Desmond didn't seem to mind too terribly, despite that the man was built like a tank and had the kind of expression one could have chiseled from stone.

“I am one of his personal guards. He trusted me with a great honor.”

And Desmond looked like he believed it, too. David motioned to him, for him to sit, and Jim obeyed, settling in beside him. Whatever Ibaiaren had slathered on his shoulder was starting to wear off, and he didn't want to pass out on account of it. “At ease, then. I have no quarrel with Emperor Nemesis, so you have no need to fear us.”

And just like that, Jim saw something in this guy, big as he was, ease away. Like he'd actually been afraid of them. Or maybe of David. He hadn't actually looked away from David yet, except that brief flicker Jim's way, when he'd answered his question. Huh...

Basoak was back with food. And more of that magic painkiller stuff in a dish. Sweet!


End file.
